Vegetables
by ArcaFeretory
Summary: "It's like they're trying to be friendly, but really they just want to cry in a corner." - There's a little vegetable in all of us.


**Happy New Years'. This was written weirdly, just in case it doesn't make sense: it's not really supposed to. Each paragraph was written individually, so some parts don't flow very well. But I figured there should be some sort of New Years' present to you all. So here you are.**

**Prompt: ****_We don't use names here._**

* * *

_If I was a vegetable... I'd probably be an onion. Because I don't like the sun and I make people cry when they try to peel back my layers._

_And if I was a fruit I'd be a lemon. Because I like lemons. They're bittersweet and brightly coloured. It's like they're trying to be friendly, but really they just want to cry in a corner._

No... that's not really right at all is it? She twirled the braided liquorice between two long fingers. For some reason she thought it was the most engrossing thing in the room. Her analogy with the food wasn't really all that accurate. Not really.

She wasn't a grumpy person generally, just defensive. She sighed, bored suddenly, and tossed the liquorice over her shoulder. It popped and fizzled, landing in the fireplace. Whatever was she going to do?

Probably nothing. That was her response to most crises she faced. Ignore it or run away. Physical conflicts were okay, she could beat up someone if she had to. But internal crap? No way.

Like a carrot. Hiding something beautiful behind a veil of dirt, cowering underground for fear of being seen. Orange wasn't her favourite colour, but she could relate. Some people were just dead set on seeing the good and ignoring the bad. She was a carrot.

Perhaps it was possible for her to be more like a tomato, blindingly bright, growing up, reaching, trying to be seen, to be recognised... loved. But she couldn't do that here. There was too much here, too many memories. They filled her feet with lead and made her soul tremble, her heart wail.

She hated tomatoes, if she was honest. But... sugar, that was something different. Growing in the sun, making people smile. It could be whatever it wanted, do whatever it pleased. So why did her candied thoughts seem so bitter?

Running her fingers through her hair, she spun in a circle, trying not to focus on anything, forcing her mind blank. Rain tapped on the roof, wind whistled past the shutters. All that glitters, right?

Throwing the liquorice in the fire had felt good, warm. Was that her mind reading too much into the action? Finding subliminal text where there was none? Perhaps the rain would help her jumbled thoughts, clear her head. She snatched her windbreaker from where it lay sprawled on the floor and headed for the door.

Hand on the knob, she twisted, wrenching the door open with more force than she meant to. Latent anger, she would've been accused. Pulling her hood forward she took a step out the door. It was only then she noticed the small woman standing on her stoop, drenched, wringing petite hands, looking uncertainly over her shoulder.

She froze, staring at the other woman. The woman appeared about to turn and leave, then realised she was no longer alone and her eyes went big. Round... like saucers. Teacups. Teacups full of green. The other woman opened her mouth to speak but closed it again when, with a simple gesture, she was invited in out of the rain.

It was funny, how calm she felt now, yet chaos had filled her mere moments earlier. Peace descended on her shoulders and wrapped her up in warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace. Green eyes met dark and her mind... stopped. The other woman opened her mouth again, but as before, couldn't speak. So they just stared at each other.

"I know I don't deserve it," her little green eyed guest murmured, not looking at her. "But... can you forgive me?"

'NO' she wanted to yell, scream, rage. But she didn't, couldn't. Looking at those sad, sad eyes, the way her elastic hair was plastered to her skull by the rain, the way her pink hands shook from the cold. She couldn't. Her heart broke.

Instead, she took her coat off and wrapped it around the other woman. Her stunned eyes looked up. They shimmered emerald with unasked questions. Could she really be forgiven? Could it be a bad dream? Could it... really...?

"There's nothing to forgive," she whispered.

The wind was knocked out of her as wet arms clamped around her neck.


End file.
